This is my Legacy
by tyrannosaurus lex. luthor
Summary: Greetings. I'm a former Imperial Intelligence operative—known throughout the galaxy—perhaps you've heard of me? No? Well, if your bored, I'll tell you about me. Everything you want to know about me is here. From my days as the Red Blade, to taking down one of the strongest Sith ever known. From stopping terrorists, to destroying a hidden galactic power. This is my story. My legacy.
1. My journey begins

You know, its quite funny, really. It seems like the worst places in the galaxy are owned by Hutts. Hutta, Nar Shadaa, Makeb, if you're looking for scum and villainy, its not hard to find.

The shuttle landed with a loud shudder. Once the pilot lowered the ramp and opened the door, me and the five other occupants exited the ship. Perhaps a few of them were my allies. Perhaps a contact. Perhaps an enemy. If they were indeed the latter, I didn't wish to find out. I continued into the spaceport.

My mission, not specified. My allies, unknown. My enemies, all around me. So this is the life of an agent. I hated it already. But hey, its the life I chose.

I had just made it to the spaceport's terminal when a Gamorrean guard ran up to his partner, who pointed at my direction. They both ran toward me. Without thinking, I quickly moved to the side of the terminal, staring at the list of shuttle departures like an ordinary traveler. Hearing them getting closer, I discreetly drew the blade from my boot. Were they coming for me? Did they know why I was here? _'Impossible',_ I told myself. _'If I don't know why I'm here, how could they?'_

I gave a brief sigh of relief as they rushed past me. I turned and noticed they were now harassing a Rodian. A Rodian who a recognized as one of the occupants on the shuttle I was on. I had to steal his passport in order to get here. I felt a bit of guilt, but then I remembered what I was taught in training. "Morals are a luxury we can't afford", I was told. One of the key laws in the agency. Of course I deeply resented that law. But, If it benefited the Empire, it was worth it. I put aside my feelings and left the spaceport.

It was a short walk from the spaceport to the cantina. Of course, it should have been. That is, if weren't for all of Fa'athra's thugs along the way. I found myself having to fight my way into the cantina. And Nem'ro's brave, loyal, and valiant guards didn't do shit. I swear, it was like they were shooting at nothing. Like it was one of those games I used to play as a kid, and they were just NCP's only created to stand there and miss. Sometimes life feels like a massively multiplayer online role-playing game.

I made my way through the cantina, going from room to room until I finally found an empty chamber. A holoterminal stood at the end of the room, displaying the image of a Twi'lek slave dancing. Ah, gotta love the dancers. They're really the only good part about cantinas like these. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to gawk. I removed the terminal's bottom panel and began hot-wiring it. It was quick, really. Cut a few wires here, unplug a few circuits there, and soon the image of the slave turned to that of a man—human, late fifties, mostly bold with grey hair on the edges of his head—a man all too familiar. I backed away from the terminal and stood at attention. _"Secure transmission established. This is Keeper. We may speak freely agent; prepare to receive your orders."_

Well this was a surprise. "I take it your my handler?"

_"Correct. I'm speaking to you from service headquarters on Dromund Kaas. I'll be directing you personally on this mission. You were chosen for this mission because of your exemplary performance during training. The Empire needs agents capable of working independently in the field. Now you apply your training to the real world. Nem'ro the Hutt and his organization run Jiguuna. And you're in town to convince Nem'ro to supply the Empire."_

"... Sir... With all due respect... You realize I'm not _exactly_ a diplomat?"

_"If the situation _requires_ a diplomat, you will _become_ a diplomat. But for now, a lighter touch is required. We need to know what Nem'ro and his advisers are thinking before we can act. I want you to obtain access to the Nem'ro clan's inner circle. You'll need a cover identity. One of our contacts—an alien named Jheeg—has prepared a background for you and will provide the details."_

That was slightly insulting. I attempted to fight the urge to say anything, but the words were already out my mouth before I realized. "Trust me, sir, I don't need _help_ to get close to a Hutt."

_"Do not underestimate the Nem'ro clan. The galaxy has seen far more _effective_ gangsters, but rarely more _sadistic_ ones. Jheeg is waiting for you in a safe house. Locate him, take what he has to offer, then report back to me."_

"Consider it done, sir."

"_Also, most of Jiguuna is caught in a turf war. Most of the gangs belong to the Hutts, but some a independent. Your combat training should see you through, but expect brutality and expect to be targeted. Jiguuna isn't very friendly to strangers. Be wary, agent."_

I smirked. "Why, Keeper, I do believe you care. Its good to see you again too, old man."

_"I... Just don't get yourself killed. Your father would likely castrate me, but I don't know what your mother would do to me if she found out I let you die alone in some alley on Hutta. If they were still alive, that is... And remember, agent. We've never—"_

"Yes-yes, I know. 'We've never met before this.' You've told me thirteen times already."

_"This is for your protection, agent. If anyone were to find out we've met, the consequences would be dire. Now, go find Jheeg and report to me. Keeper, out." _

And so my story began.

* * *

Author's Note: Sup peoples! Special thanks to my friend Understandible Giberish for Co-ing this with me!

Also, just wanted to let you viewers know, I'm almost finished with chapter two of The enemy of my enemy. Apologies for taking so long to update, but I wanted to give the characters more depth and just felt like I could have done better, so I've been revising the first chapter a bit while also working on the second. I've been doing maintenance on all of my stories, actually, including Escape the Unknown because I really could have done so much better. Don't worry, though, I will hopefully be finished with both chapters to The enemy of my enemy by the end of next week. If your interested in my SWTOR stories, check out my profile for a list of upcoming projects. There are plenty on the way!


	2. First Contact

Jheeg, surprisingly, was an Arconan male—roughly my height, slim build, and apparently not fully educated in his _own_ language. He was also my contact. "You." He acknowledged. "You are here softly, from the empire. I am Jheeg. I am expecting. I have your new identity."

I could hear some shouts in the distance—obviously one of Fath'ra's thugs noticed a body I had to leave—and I unconsciously moved to the side of the room "Talk fast. I don't like being seen with illiterate people."

He listened well. "Very fast. Very good. You know the Red Blade? Small-time pirate. Rich. Mysterious. No one knows true species, gender, color. I planted rumors, made Nem'ro think the Red Blade is coming to visit—enjoy Hutt palace, do business. You will be the Blade. No one will doubt you."

I'd only been out of the training academy for a short period of time—a little over a month—and even with my considerable lack of experience in the field, I'd learned from many trainers that things which _sounded_ too good to be true, often _were_. Nothing is ever _simple_. "This sounds _easy_ Jheeg. What's the catch?"

I noted the subtle pause in his speech and knew something must have happened that wasn't supposed to. "Yes... Catch is unfortunate. I will explain... Real Blade brings tribute to friends: brings present, bribes. Real blade is far away now; exploring Outer Rim, won't cause trouble. Only one concern: I arranged tribute for Nem'ro, gifts imported from Empire, but there was—Interference?—at the spaceport..."

"Interference?" I sighed, folding my arms over my chest as I leaned back against the wall. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

He scratched the back of his reptilian head. "Very likely, no. Gang steals from docks. Dangerous men, unaware of us. Nem'ro's tribute taken. But I saw everything, I observed well, yes? I have proposed solution. You quickly eliminate gang members. Only method to recover gifts, remove witnesses."

"In other words, you messed up and you want me to fix things." Why I was surprised, I didn't know. And though I was deeply disappointed, I couldn't exactly blame him. He did his part.

"Situation is regrettable. My job is to watch and speak, not protect cargo. Gangsters are nearby...why we met here, yes? But advice; discretion, caution. Targets are excellent shots."

I laughed, turning around to leave. "I doubt they're better than me."

* * *

I spent the next few hours searching for leads on the whereabouts of the gangsters, not even realizing exactly what he meant by _nearby_. It was a waste of time. Soon I completely forgot how many thugs I interrogated, credits I bribed with, and hours I wasted, only to find my targets just a few buildings away.

I grunted, dragging the lifeless body of a Fath'ra Master Thief on floor and dropping it in an empty room. Standard procedure involved dropping a small tracking device on a dead target and sending a message to all agents planet-side. If no agents are tasked with disposal duty on the mission, any operatives within a one mile radius would intercept the message and dispose of the bodies themselves. Unfortunatly, I was on Hutta. Standard operational procedure was often set aside, due to almost all missions on Hutta being undercover ops.

After retrieving the stolen tributes, I returned to Jheeg's hideout.

"All witnesses eliminated?" He asked cautiously. "Gifts recovered? I will examine." I placed the container of—I guessed—expensive materials and stepped back, eyeing the Arconan with curiosity as he sifted through the contents. "Good. Many things Nem'ro wants, things Nem'ro likes. When Nem'ro has his gifts, all suspicions go away. You become pirate. You become Red Blade."

"What exactly are these gifts?" I couldn't help but ask. What _exactly_ do Hutts find _valuable_? I had an extensive array of knowledge, however as far as I knew about Hutts... They eat, sleep—I wasn't even completely sure on that—and eat again.

"Frivolous, expensive." He replied. "Aurodium idols from Republic royalty. Tarul wine from Naboo. Tamuon wool Hutt robes."

_'Robes? Since when do Hutts use _robes_?'_

"I contact Imperial Handlers. As assured, yes?" He pressed a button on a communication device and awaited patiently. "Call is arriving now."

_"Jheeg,"_ A voice called from the device._ "From this point forward, all operational contact will be at a premium. You will not contact us from this terminal again."_

"Yes." Said the Arconan, turning and walking away. He didn't seem put down in the slightest, which was odd. Premium contact on Red Zones—planets and or areas that required undercover work and demanded discretion from all personnel—usually meant outside informants would not be needed or contacted again. I guessed being one of the Empire's few outside contacts on Hutta gave him a certainty of future business deals. "Leaving for your privacy now. I will await contact."

The holoterminal to my left displayed the blue, 3D image of my handler._ "I understand you corrected Jheeg's mishandling of the situation, agent. We'll now proceed."_

I stood at attention, head cocked slightly in silent question. I still wasn't sure of my entire objective. "Proceed to do what exactly, sir?"

_"Your next task is to access Nem'ro's inner circle. Present yourself to the Hutt as a fellow gangster-the Red Blade-and offer him Jheeg's gifts. One of the gifts is implanted with a listening devise, which we will use to monitor conversations within the Nem'ro's palace."_

It didn't take long for the realization to hit me. There was obviously another reason for my mission. Intelligence would never waste time listening to anything of no concern to the Empire. Of course with the Hutt criminal empire continually growing, they could prove a threat in the passing years, but as of this point, their choices would cause almost no direct interference with the Empire's goals. They were _looking_ for something. "Are you listening for something specific, sir?"

_"At this juncture, our primary goal is to find weaknesses in Nem'ro's organization. Even if the Hutt won't join us, we might influence his lieutenants. Talk to Nem'ro and his men. Determin who we can turn and how we can sway them. We will be listening."_

There was a nagging in the back of my head, something warning me that there was something going unsaid. Something in my handler's eyes was the confirmation I needed. I shoved that thought aside. It wasn't my place to question my superior's motives, no matter how bad it would probably bite me in the ass later. I just had to survive, long enough to achieve my own mission. "In that case, I better watch my mouth."

_"I expect my ears can handle it, 'Blade'. Be careful what you say-and lose the accent. When you're in the Hutt Palace, your no longer Imperial. Contact me from the cantina once Nem'ro has his 'presents'. Keeper, out."_

* * *

Sup peoples! Sorry for this being short, but me and my family are moving to Texas in a couple of days, and our WI-FI is shutting off today, so I'm trying to update as much as I can.


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